The Scramble [Complete]

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

The transition was much like blinking. The raw power of the Lifestream vanished, and with it the blinding, deafening, searing sensation that had accompanied it. Death had come on swifter feet than the man could have imagined. Mere seconds ago he had stood above the rift, taking in the beautiful, terrible view. Was this the end?

Blink.

For the briefest of moments, darkness replaced brightness; absolute, impenetrable darkness of an all-consuming nothingness. A second later, the darkness seemed to abate, though not as one might expect. Had the moment passed slower, he may have perceived the shift. Darkness was still very much a reality, though this seemed…different.

Death? Vincent wondered. No, this was not the case. His mind still existed in the darkness, fully aware of what had just transpired. It felt almost as if his mind was drifting in a different plane. A peaceful, soundless darkness surrounded him, calming his whirling mind. Afterlife? The ex-Turk had never given the idea much weight, though it seemed likely that he had found himself precisely there. Unaware of any bodily sensations, he had only his thoughts ensuring him of his existence; that is, until company arrived.

“My name is Omni.”

The words appeared in his mind. The silence had not gone, yet he still “heard” it. It was almost as if the words were within his mind, imagined. The ‘voice’ continued, this time somewhat ‘louder’, more pronounced. It felt like a gentle whisper creeping its way in. Louder still, the voice expounded.

“This is not the world you know.”

Vincent’s mind filled with details, slowly churning through the mass of information. It felt like a wad of taffy as his brain attempted to process what he was experiencing. Each new sentence added to the cue, his mind in overdrive. He struggled to keep up, disbelief hampering his thought. Moments later (or what felt like moments), the darkness began to fade. Slowly, steadily, light replaced darkness as if he was climbing out of a well.

- - -

Pain; dull, achy agony permeated his brain. He ran a hand under his thick, dark hair, rubbing the base of his head. His eyes opened and he was met with an utterly unfamiliar sight. Vincent lay flat on his back, his cloak tucked neatly beneath him, almost as if someone had taken the time to straighten it out before he had lost consciousness. Directly above him he saw…nothing. A vast, empty whiteness stretched skyward above him, farther than he could see. Rolling his head to the side, he saw a similar effect off toward the horizon; or at least where the horizon would ordinarily be. The blank white of the ground met with the whiteness of the sky, blending together incomprehensibly. He sat bolt upright, quickly glancing around. Where the hell am I? He thought. Remembering the preceding events felt like water through a sieve.

The raven-haired man got uneasily to his feet, a sleep-life grogginess gripping his mind. He could not locate a single object as far as he could see; indeed it seemed he did not even cast a shadow. Above him he found no source of illumination, though ‘everything’ seemed well-illuminated. Presently, he directed his attention toward the sound of falling water behind him. Not 10 feet behind him there stood a massive, incredibly intricate fountain. Its shape was unlike anything he could describe, its metal etched in complex, ornate shapes. Metal, or was it marble? The fountain seemed to change its shape whenever Vincent attempted to sum up its shape. Water cascaded down its many surfaces, splashing and spraying in all directions. He watched the droplets fall toward the ground, only to vanish into the whiteness. Though the ground was solid under his feet, his lungs still sucked in air and he could plainly see and fell, it seemed this realm did not abide by the physics he was used to.

What is this place? He wondered, pain and grogginess still warring over control of his head. How had he come upon this place? Was he dreaming? A dream would definitely explain how and why he was here. Perhaps an illusion, or mako poisoning? Had he been drugged, this phantasm being all in his head? Vincent peeled back the glove on his right hand, running the index finger of his clawed gauntlet roughly across his skin. The tiny prickles of pain as the sharp metal dragged across his skin informed him that he was not asleep or subdued. The gunslinger closed his eyes, focusing on remembering where he had been before awakening. It slowly came back to him: he had fallen into the Lifestream and awoken here. Had he wound up here as an effect of the Lifestream? If not, what had happened?

“Omni. The Rift…” he began, turning as the faint sound of voices drew his attention toward the fountain.

Just beyond the arching water Vincent was able to make out a group of figures. One a militaristic looking man with an eye patch, seated in a large ornate chair. Another hulking green figure in medieval style armor sat cross-legged on the ground. Various themed soldiers stood near each ‘leader’, motionless. A small motley group stood with their backs to the fountain, apparently speaking to the duo and amongst themselves. A few of the group splintered off, heading out into the nothingness. Following their path Vincent could make out the vague outline of various arches on the periphery. Cautiously, the pale warrior stepped closer to the group. He unconsciously reached to the empty holster at his side, cursing at Cerberus’ absence. To compensate, he buckled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, obscuring his arms and torso. He stepped lightly, preparing to fight if necessary. As he neared, he picked up on bits of conversation.

“You are a Prime, a gifted individual summoned to the Omniverse by Omni.”

‘Prime’? Is that what we all are here?

“We represent two different kingdoms… We are both here to recruit.”

Vincent furrowed his brow. Recruiters…wonderful, he thought. He watched as some picked sides, while others wandered off on their own. A few remained at the fountain, still deciding Vincent assumed. With a sigh, the raven-haired man stepped toward the recruiters.

“Hello!” the one-eyed man greeted as he approached. “My name is Bradley. I would like to cordially extend to you the opportunity to travel with my men to the glorious metropolis of Coruscant.” He smiled as he spoke, his weathered face crinkling. “This situation is no doubt difficult and confusing, and the Empire will do whatever it can to make you comfortable during your stay.”

The enormous green man spoke up, his deep voice coming from behind yellowed fangs. “Be advised, Prime. Not everything Bradley says is truthful.”

Bradley scoffed in response. “Oh, Thrall. Do let him make his own decision, don’t want you poisoning the well this early.” He spoke with obvious contempt for the creature, placing extra emphasis on ‘poisoning’.

Thrall ignored the comment, instead taking his turn to speak. “Welcome to the Omniverse. My name is Thrall, and I represent the kingdom of Camelot. You are likewise welcome in our fine village, we have room to spare and you will be free to do what you please.” He shot a glance at Bradley on the word ‘free’.

Vincent nodded in acknowledgment. Everything was not quite ‘clicking’ about this universe. “Who is this Omni?” He uttered, slightly off topic.

Thrall spoke first, resting his great head on his ham-sized fist. “He is the creator of this world. Not much is known of him, other than that he brings those he finds interesting here and gifts them with the ability to use Omnilium.” Spying Vincent’s semi-confused look, he continued, “The currency of our universe. As you’ve no doubt been informed by Omni himself, anything you desire can be obtained with it. You need only want, and it will appear.”

The pale gunslinger pulled a gloved hand from beneath his cloak, holding it palm-up in front of him. Staring into his hand, he focused on the thought of his revolver, now adrift in the Lifestream. Though he was still unsure of this place and of its citizens, he entertained the idea. No sooner had he began to mentally conjure the image of Cerberus did he feel a weight in his palm. Seemingly from thin air, the firearm materialized, just as it had been before the fall. Vincent smiled, marveling at what he had just done. Magic? The gunslinger flicked his wrist, opening the chamber of the gun. He found it empty, devoid of ammunition. I guess guns and bullets aren’t a package deal.

Holstering his gun, Vincent thought for a moment. Summoning and other such tricks was fun, but a growing concern nagged at him. The Rift on Gaia, and whatever had caused it remained unaddressed. His friends and allies would assume him dead, and the Weapon- if it was a Weapon—would rise from the chasm and take lives. Valentine did not delude himself with thoughts of him single-handedly stopping some creature, but he could not very well remain here and do nothing. He thought of Shelke and of Lucrecia.

“I’ll follow whoever can get me to Omni.” He said, finally.

Bradley’s grin returned. “You’re not the first to say that. Assist Emperor Palpatine, and the Empire will aid you in reaching Omni.”

“I must caution you, that is a dangerous journey. And Palpatine is not to be trusted.” Thrall insisted, concern on his visage.

Vincent nodded. The creature did not seem to be lying, though Bradley’s invitation offered the chance of returning; returning perhaps in time to help his friends. Whether it was a lie or an attempt to manipulate him, the pale man didn’t care. He had to take the risk.

“Lead on, Bradley.”